


Jock Jams and Brundlewhores

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Episode Tag, I Apologize For This, M/M, first person POV, it is almost completely dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Season 4 finale episode tag. Just an almost-happy ending for two perennial losers who bicker about music but really do love each other. Pete's POV.





	Jock Jams and Brundlewhores

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this under the name 'glasgowsmiles' when I was on LiveJournal, and managed to dig it up when the subject of my writing VB fic came up, but wow. Wow. I wrote it in 2010 at two in the morning and it shows.
> 
> Hopefully when I find the rest of my VB fic it will redeem me somewhat, but... I promised if I could find the things I would post the things here. Even if they're a little terrible.

“So... do you wanna get out of here?” I jerked my head toward the door, laying a hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“Do I! Did your date turn into an unholy abomination in the eyes of man and God alike, too?”

“Yeah. Well, she might have started out that way, actually. You can’t trust hired girls. Actually, I’ve never dated any woman who didn’t turn into a monster at some point... Actually, I’ve been really unsuccessful with women. Okay, let’s scram. Here.” I tossed him a cassette tape.

“What is this?”

“Don’t make me say it.” I shook my head. 

“I mean, it’s a cassette tape, which is its own kind of horribly lame, but seriously, what am I holding?”

“Jock Jams of the Nineties, okay?” I shuddered. “Are you happy? It’s like, anathema to me.”

“Hey, I put up with the way you get pretentious and incomprehensible when you talk about music from the eighties that sounds all the same.”

“It does not.”

“Depeche Mode sounds like Erasure sounds like Pet Shop Boys sounds like Soft Cell, should I even go on?”

“Don’t even start with me, that is so not true.”

“You’ve got ichor on your cravat.” He said, changing the subject completely. Which is probably for the best. 

“I didn’t ever need to know that word.” I shuddered again. If anything, the ichor is worse than the Salt ‘n’ Pepa. “If I didn’t love you...”

“... What?”

“Damn. Did I say that last part out loud? I was thinking about how I wouldn’t even have a cassette tape with Salt ‘n’ Pepa on it if I didn’t, um...”

“Love me?”

My head dropped forward. Which, all things considered, did absolutely nothing to hide my shame. If anything, I should have looked up. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Oh. So...” He cast around. “Worst prom ever, right?”

“Dunno. Didn’t go to mine.”

“ _Seriously_?”

“Yeah, or, like, all of junior and senior year, so it’s not like I had too much opportunity, and anyway, even if I did, what was I gonna do? High school was not a good time for me. I reinvented myself in college, but before that, I was... you know, not popular.”

He laughed. “Yeah, ‘cause I so believed you were, like, the big man on campus. But c’mon, even I went to my prom, and I was... Well, _me_.”

“I didn’t go.” I shrugged, feeling slightly defensive, and slightly just weirded out by the fact that he was letting the whole ‘I love you’ thing slide without question.

“Well then. I guess this is your chance to slip out of prom to get lucky somewhere.” He smacked my ass, which was completely unexpected. Like, it’s possible that at some point during this conversation, I slipped into an alternate universe where Billy might possibly do that kind of thing. 

“Did you just proposition me?” I asked, because I had to be sure he didn’t mean ‘let’s rent us up some non-insectoid whores and forget all about your inappropriate feelings for me!’.

“Kind of. Although instead of the backseat of a car or behind a dumpster behind a gymnasium, I was hoping we could do it, like, in a bed or something.”

“Your place or mine?” I grinned, offering him my hand. 

Then we got outside and the evening stopped going exactly right—well, as right as an evening that included monster hookers could go.

“What the hell happened to my conjecture cycle?”

“I don’t even feel like asking questions.” Billy sighed. “Come on, hop on the back.”

“Hop on the back?” I gave him the most incredulous look I could muster. “You gotta be _kidding_ me!”

“Do you want to get home and have sex or not?”

I did. I looked _ridiculous_ , sitting on the bitch seat of his cycle with my knees up by my ears and clinging onto his shoulders and all but falling off because when I said ‘seat’, that was kind of an exaggeration, and it’s a miracle we made it home in one piece, but sex was on the table, so I didn’t complain.

Much.


End file.
